Chapter 18

Thursday, December 1

As Jill descended the stairs the next morning, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” she called down the hallway.

She’d barely opened the front door when Mrs. Tolliver and Mrs. Montgomery pushed their way inside.

“Good morning, dear. How did you sleep?” Mrs. Montgomery peered up at her, as though studying her for signs of sleep deprivation.

“I slept well, thank you.” Jill shut the door behind them.

“No more dreams?” Mrs. Tolliver paused in the act of unwinding a long wool scarf from her neck, her expression disappointed.

“No, ma’am. The dream hasn’t returned since Monday.” Jill didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. She definitely felt fit after two good nights’ sleep, but now that she was committed to delivering the warning, why had the dream disappeared?

Both ladies paused in the act of hanging their coats.

“Is the fire still coming?” Mrs. Montgomery asked.

Jill didn’t hesitate to nod. Even without the dream’s return, the weight of its message still lay heavily on her. Her father’s letters compelled her to act. “Yes. It’s still coming.”

Relieved smiles lit both wrinkled faces.

“Look what I have.” Mrs. Tolliver opened a shopping bag and extracted two books. “I got them at the library yesterday afternoon.”

She held them out for Jill’s inspection. Yellow sticky notes stuck out from the pages of both. Jill almost groaned when she read the title of the one on top: Dream Dictionary for Dummies.

Mrs. Tolliver opened the second book to a marked page as they walked into the living room. “They both have alphabetized listings of dream symbols, and this one says the time on the clock may have special significance. What time did the clock say in your dream, Jill?”

Jill shuddered. The image was burned into her mind. “Five after ten.”

“Ah. Not exactly ten, then.” The elderly head bobbed up and down, as though that observation explained everything.

Nana bustled into the room. “There you are, girls. Tea’s steeping in the pot, so that will be ready in a minute.” She rubbed her hands together and looked toward the stack of unpainted signs. “We have a lot to get done today.”

Mrs. Mattingly took possession of the Dummy book and seated herself in a wing chair. She opened it and began flipping through the pages. “What does it say about fire?”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Mrs. Tolliver answered. “Fire can be several things, but this book says it might mean a change is coming, some sort of transformation. Or it could stand for repressed sexual passion.” Sparse gray eyebrows waggled in Jill’s direction.

Heat smoldered in Jill’s face.

“Don’t be foolish, Edna.” Though the smaller and more shriveled of the two, Mrs. Montgomery’s disapproving frown gave her an air of authority. She snapped the book closed. “Did you ever stop to think the fire might be a real fire, and the clock might actually mean something’s going to happen at 10:05? Otherwise, what’s the point of all this?” She waved a vein-lined hand toward the signs.

Mrs. Tolliver inspected the book doubtfully. “Well, I suppose that’s possible.” Her expression cleared. “Or it could be both. Maybe a real fire is going to happen, and that’ll be the beginning of a transformation for the Cove.”

The shrill ringing of the phone rescued Jill from what was proving to be an extremely uncomfortable conversation. She hurried toward Nana’s desk and picked up the old-fashioned corded phone there. “Hello?”

“Oh, Jill, it’s you.” She recognized the breathless voice.

“Mrs. Cramer,” she told the others.

Mrs. Cramer rushed on. “I was just getting ready to leave, and I went to turn off the television. Jill, you’re going to be on the news right after the commercial break!”

The words didn’t immediately register. Then their import struck Jill. She stabbed at the television set in the corner of Nana’s living room. “Turn it on. Hurry.”

Nana dove for the remote control and pointed it at the old console. After a moment, the picture flared to life. Jill clutched the receiver and waited, breathless, through two commercials before the CBC newscaster’s face filled the screen.

“And now we have an interesting story from the harbor community of Seaside Cove, where a local celebrity took over a political meeting Monday night to announce —” a smirk twisted the man’s mouth. “— the end of the world.”

The man’s face disappeared. Jill’s head went light when she saw herself holding a microphone, Greg at her side. She looked awful. No makeup. Dark pouches under her eyes. Why hadn’t she taken the time to run a brush through her hair?

“I support everything Greg said, and I think his plan is vital for the future of Seaside Cove. I hope you’ll vote for him to represent you on the council. But that’s not what I want to say. I want — no, I have to tell you something that’s going to sound really crazy. I’ve had these dreams. Well, only one dream, but I’ve had it several times.”

A groan sounded loud in the room. It took a moment for Jill to realize it came from her. Horror crept over her as she watched her own pronouncement of disaster, saw the stunned expression on Greg’s face, the rush of people who surrounded her chair. Blindly, she felt for the desk chair behind her, scooted it out, and sank into it.

The television reporter returned to the screen. “That was Jillian Elizabeth King, formerly a professional classical pianist who has now become, apparently, a local prophet of doom.” The smirk deepened. “Whether or not the residents of Seaside Cove accept her prediction remains to be seen.” The camera angle switched. “In other local news, a Halifax swimmer has announced his decision to —”

The television screen went black. Nana set the remote control on the coffee table. Jill realized she was still holding the telephone receiver, and replaced it without a word. Nobody looked in her direction. Blood roared through her ears as numbness crept over her. Had Greg’s father seen that? She gulped against a suddenly dry throat. Had Greg?

“Well,” Nana said after the silence stretched on long enough to be embarrassing. “We said we wanted to get the word out. I think we got our wish.”

The other two ladies made encouraging sounds, but Jill paid no attention. Her fingers tapped on the phone receiver while thoughts turned over in her mind. One by one they fell into place. The quality of the video the news had just broadcast wasn’t professional. More like a home movie. And it had been taken from close range. Like, from the front row of chairs in the gymnasium. The thought ignited a white, hot fury. She slapped her hands on the surface of the desk and propelled herself to her feet.

Nana peered at her anxiously. “What’s wrong, dear?”

Jill was pleased that her voice sounded far calmer than she felt. “I’ll be back later, after I’ve taken care of something.”

Correction. Someone.

“His shed is in my yard.” Mr. Rice thrust his jaw forward in Greg’s direction. “I want you to make him tear it down.”

Greg nodded in an understanding manner. “If we can verify that your neighbor’s new shed does, indeed, cross the property line, then you’re within your rights to ask him to move it.”

“I know where the property line is. I’ve lived there longer than him. It runs smack-dab between the tree in the back and the light pole out front.”

“So step one is to get a copy of —”

A tap on the door interrupted. Greg looked up to see the door crack open and Teresa’s head peek through.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m afraid this might be important.” She held up a pink square of paper, the ones on which she recorded phone messages for him.

Teresa had been with him since he opened his practice, and he’d come to rely on her professionalism and discretion. If this message was important enough to interrupt a client consultation, then it probably required his attention. He extended his hand, and she slipped into the room to bring it to him.

“I’m sorry for the interruption, Mr. Rice,” he told the man. “This will only take a …”

Words evaporated from his mind as he scanned the note. It was from Jill.

“I wrote exactly what she told me,” Teresa said.

Tell him I am going to need a lawyer soon, because I’m on my way over to assault my fiancé’s girlfriend.

Her fiancé’s girlfriend? What did that mean?

Last night’s conversation in the car came back to him.

He catapulted out of the chair and rounded the desk toward the door. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rice. An emergency’s come up. Teresa will schedule you for another appointment. No charge for today.”

He ran out the door, and when he reached the sidewalk remembered that his car keys were in his coat pocket in his office. No time to go back for them now. He could run the five blocks to the café faster.

Jill’s fiery anger had cooled to a slow burn by the time she marched through the café’s front door. Only half the tables were occupied today, but at her entrance, every head turned her way. No fifties music today. Instead, the sound of the CBC newscaster’s voice projected from a television screen suspended from the back corner and angled so it could be seen in the entire room. The slimy snake didn’t want to miss the results of her handiwork.

The customers’ voices fell silent. Some stared openly, but most averted their faces as though afraid she might speak to them. A wave of embarrassment threatened to send heat rushing to her face. She was accustomed to getting attention when she entered a room, but not like this. Usually people were happy to see her.

Behind the counter stood the busty Judas, pretending like she hadn’t noticed Jill’s arrival. Jill marched through the dining room and made her way to the counter, where old Mr. Towers sat in the chair beside the wall, sipping coffee. She ignored him and stood at the opposite end of the counter, her hands clutching the back of a tall stool.

Rowena glanced up, but her gaze didn’t connect with Jill’s. “Hi, Jill. Can I pour you a cup of coffee?”

Jill gave a sarcastic blast of laughter. “I don’t think so. I’d be afraid to drink it.”

Rowena’s eyebrows inched up and disappeared beneath fluffy bangs. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t try that innocent act on me.” Jill put steel in her voice. “At least have the courage to admit what you did.”

Rowena’s head tilted upward, her nose high in the air. “You’re obviously upset about something, though what that has to do with me I have no idea.”

“Oh?” Jill pointed toward the television screen. “And I suppose you didn’t see the news report a few minutes ago.”

The woman’s glance circled the room behind Jill. “We saw it. But you can’t seriously think I had anything to do with that.”

Jill inflated her lungs with an outraged breath, ready to let go with a verbal blast that would knock this Jezebel on her well-padded behind, but the bell mounted on the top of the door jangled, and a shout stopped her.

“Jill!”

She turned to see Greg striding toward her, his face bright red, his chest heaving to draw in noisy gulps of air. Good. This concerned him, too, so he needed to be here.

“I see you got my message.”

He reached her side and stopped for a moment, doubled over with his hands resting on his thighs, and drew in huge breaths. When he could speak, he straightened.

“What is going on here?”

“That double-crossing snake,” Jill pointed at Rowena, “sold the video of Monday night’s meeting to CBC in order to make me look like a lunatic.”

“I did no such thing.” The glare Rowena shot at her melted into an endearing plea when she turned toward Greg. “She’s obviously not thinking clearly.”

“CBC?” Greg raked fingers through his hair, his expression confused. “What video?”

“You didn’t see the news about twenty minutes ago?”

“No, I was meeting with a client.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to catch it again this evening.” She folded her arms across her chest with a jerk and glared at Rowena. “Compliments of your campaign manager.”

Rowena didn’t answer, but her expression shouted denial louder than words.

Not a sound came from anyone else in the room as the women commanded the attention of everyone. The table of fishermen in the far corner actually turned their seats around so they could watch the show without craning their necks.

Jill ignored them and fired an accusation across the counter. “You can’t deny that video is the one you took. It was shot from the center of the front row, exactly where you sat in front of Greg in your low-cut blouse, flashing cleavage under his nose.”

Someone behind Jill tried to stifle a laugh, and Rowena’s eyes opened wide.

Greg put a hand on Jill’s back and said in a low voice full of warning. “Jill. Don’t do this.”

She rounded on him. “Watch the news, Greg. You’ll see that video can only be hers.”

“It did look like my video.” Greg and Jill both jerked their heads toward Rowena, who winced. “It had to be, since I was the only person in the front row filming the meeting.” Her chin shot up and she stared directly at Jill. “But I didn’t give it to CBC. Someone stole it from me.”

“Oh. Right.”

Greg ignored Jill’s sarcastic comment and asked. “Someone broke into your house?”

Rowena’s teeth appeared to clamp down on one corner of her lower lip as she shook her head. “I had the little disk thingy here to give to you. But I forgot when you were here Tuesday night, so I set it on the shelf so I’d remember to give it to you yesterday.” She pointed to a curio shelf hanging on the wall beside the register stand. “But you didn’t come in yesterday.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Jill’s face and then returned to Greg’s. “When I saw the news, I looked for the disk. It’s gone.”

“Well, that explains it.” Greg heaved a relieved sigh. “Who knew it was there?”

Rowena shook her head. “Could have been anyone from Tuesday to last night. Half of the Cove’s been in here, and that shelf is in plain sight.” She arranged her features into an expression of pained innoncence. “I’m so sorry, Greg. I would never do anything to embarrass you. You know that, right?”

“I know you wouldn’t, Rowe.” Greg turned a smile toward Jill. “See? We’ll get to the bottom of this and figure out who did it. Maybe the television station will tell me where they got it.”

Jill’s mouth dropped open. How could he be so gullible?

“Surely you don’t buy that baloney. Someone just happened to see a disk lying on a shelf, and they just happened to decide to steal it with no idea of what was on it? She’s lying, Greg.”

Rowena’s spine stiffened to the point that her chest stuck out even farther than usual. “It just happened to be in an envelope with ‘Greg’s Video’ written clearly on the front. Anyone who went to that meeting Monday night and saw me doing the recording would know what was in the envelope.” Her expression hardened. “I think you’d better leave, Jill.”

Now it was Jill’s turn to stiffen. “Not until I get to the bottom of this.”

The weasel spoke to Greg without removing her glare from Jill. “Greg, this is my property, and I can serve whoever I want. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than you already have, but if she’s not out of here in thirty seconds, I’m calling William.”

Jill gasped. William Akers was the local law enforcement officer. That woman wouldn’t dare have her arrested.

“Come on, Jill.” Greg slipped a hand under her arm and tugged.

“No.” She tried to shake him off, but he held fast. “You didn’t see —”

“Later,” he snapped.

Muscles tensed in his rigid jaw as he pulled her toward the door. Jill had seen Greg angry several times, but never had the full weight of his anger been directed toward her. The sight of his face threw icy water on the smoldering fury that had burned in her since seeing the news broadcast. She shut her mouth and allowed him to lead her outside as every head in the café turned to watch their progress.

On the sidewalk, while traffic zoomed by on Harbor Street, he faced her. “What were you thinking? You called Rowena a liar to her face, in front of a room full of customers.”

Okay, probably not the most tactful way to handle the situation, but that didn’t make her wrong.

“Greg, she is lying. I know it. Maybe she didn’t give that video to CBC, but she knows who did. She probably even put it there by the cash register on purpose, so someone would take it.”

He threw his head back toward the sky, fingers raking through his hair. “Why would she do that? She’s my number-one supporter. Why would she want to make me look bad?”

“She doesn’t. She wants to make me look bad. She’s after you, Greg. I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

He glanced at the windows, and slipped his arm through hers. “Come on. We’ll talk about this later. You can give me a ride back to the office.”

The gesture might appear to onlookers like reconciliation, but the stiffness in his arm told Jill he wasn’t happy. She followed his gaze and saw at least a dozen faces staring at them through the café windows. Greg was right. They should talk about this later, in private. Then she could convince him that Rowena Mitchell was not the innocent campaign supporter he thought she was.